


there'll be space for you always in my harmony

by apatternedfever



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Gen, Not Beta Read, cameo by awesome musical polyglot Night Vale women, introspection without plot, mentions of other people - Freeform, passing Cecil/Carlos but only in passing, saxophonist Carlos, singer/songwriter Cecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apatternedfever/pseuds/apatternedfever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Cecil's meaningless (unless you ask him) lyrics, the strange assortment of instruments, and the refusal to pick a genre, Night Vale shouldn't work. It does. Carlos reflects before a show. [Or, Welcome to Night Vale, the band AU.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	there'll be space for you always in my harmony

**Author's Note:**

> Rambling prompt fic written for a Night Vale band AU request by the wonderful Mal. Title from SJ Tucker's _To My Valentine_. Concrit/beta offers very welcome.

Carlos is constantly amazed by the amount of people who crowd into the tiny venues that are all that Night Vale can ever manage to book. They're just a little too small to manage to play anywhere bigger, just a little too big for the places that want them. An awkward fit -- which is, to be honest, kind of perfect for them.

Cecil's smile is infectious, listening to the chatter of the crowd. He always looks this way, pleased as punch to know that people are coming to see them. Carlos thinks he'd probably look that way even if only two people showed up, play his heart out for those two the way he does for every crowd.

"Ready?" he asks Carlos, his voice hushed in preparation for the next two hours. Carlos nods, adjusting the strap on his saxophone, and gets a kiss for his troubles. He's still grinning goofily when Cecil flits off to check on everyone else, still not quite used to the kisses that have replaced the 'stare longingly at Cecil and hope no one notices' part of his pre-show ritual (that replaced the 'check for the fiftieth time that you actually are ready even though you know you are' that used to take up this time) ever since they started dating.

When Cecil passes him, he knows everyone else was as well. If they weren't, they wouldn't be going on. Cecil's been known to hold up shows for hours because one of his bandmates needed it -- not all the time, sure, but more than once, enough to make it part of their reputation. Luckily, their strange little fanbase has taken it as a good thing, a sign that they actually care about each other. And they always give a show when they promise to, even if they need to move it into the street or someone's basement because the venue won't wait for them.

Someone's basement, usually. Carlos has met more fans that way than he ever expected, when Cecil invited him to join the band. Carlos has met more fans than he expected, period.

The first time he listened to Night Vale's debut album, _Turn Off Your Radios and Hide_ \-- two days before his audition, never having heard of them before he picked up the phone and called the number in Cecil's ad, intrigued by the request for "absolutely any instrument as long as you love it". He'd been ready to join yet another jazz band, to practically get laughed out of it for admitting that he doesn't really like jazz, another round of questions about why he plays the sax primarily, then.

(The answer is, he just does, okay? He loves the sax, has since he was a child. Doesn't mean he has to love jazz.)

Night Vale is not a jazz band. Night Vale is not an anything band, really. Night Vale is Cecil's band, for all that means to anyone who hasn't heard the man. They don't stay in one genre for more than two songs at a time, if that. They have a guitar and a keyboard and a drum set, but they also have a french horn and a xylophone and a harp and lute and a recorder and a kazoo, and that's just what they use regularly. Dana and Josie and Tamika pick up new ones all the time, learning them in a flash and then showing Cecil.

Cecil doesn't play anything. Cecil just sings and writes the songs, except there's really nothing _just_ about it. Cecil's songs are why people care about them at all. They're strange and sometimes borderline atonal and the lyrics make almost no sense and people _love_ them. They love the senseless lyrics that Cecil swears are full of meaning and the strange vocalizations and the seven people playing twenty-five instruments on one album alone. They connected with them. The strangest band Carlos has ever heard, but the words that come up again and again from fans are "I feel like you understand me". The only thing they hear more is "thank you", and they hear that from almost everyone.

It's like magic, Cecil's songs and Cecil's band and a hundred hearts touched, and Carlos still isn't sure how he gets to be a part of this. But Cecil grabs his hand as they move onto the stage, stopping for one more kiss before he goes to the mic, to the cheers of the entire crowd (no jeering, no sarcasm, not even any catcalls -- just cheers, happy to see their singer happy). And Dana grins at him behind her drums, where she'll only be for a song or two before another instrument calls her. And Khoshekh bumps him with their shoulder as he crosses, and Carlos no longer worries that it's some kind of hazing, just bumps them back, natural as the first, deep breath before lifting the sax to his lips.

"We love you too," Cecil promises the crowd, to another round of cheers; he means it with everything in him, and maybe that's strange, but Carlos wouldn't want to be in a band that felt any other way. Not after this.

Night Vale is more than just a gig, it's home, and even if the crowds and the fans go away, even if they're only playing for each other, he can't imagine ever leaving.


End file.
